As/Is

6.24.2014

From Ocho 11 (2007): Mary Walker Graham

Double

Here is a box of fish marked tragedy.
Is it different from the dream

in which your alter ego kills the girl?
You are the same, and everyone knows it,

whether tracing the delicate lip of the oyster shell,
or sharpening your blade in the train car.

The marvelous glint is the same.
Though you think you sleep, you wake

and walk into the hospital, fingering
each instrument, opening each case with care.

The scales fall away with a scraping motion.
You are the surgeon and you are the girl.

Whether you lie like feathers on the pavement,
or coolly pocket your equipment, and walk away. . .

You are the same; and you are the same.
You only sleep to enter the luminous cave.

posted by Adam Fieled on Tuesday, June 24, 2014

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6.20.2014

I Remember...

I Remember

If your I in the world has

life in the world, against collective

masks which are ramparts to

be pushed past, there is little to

remember but luck; even

anguish vindicated, even

discomfort blessed in its

wretched restlessness. You

were young & heedless then,

your I not noticing mirages

you were forced to splash

around in— brittle lips,

skins, faces, ointments

applied to pixilate against

the integrity of the real. Your

I was joined by others of

your ilk, possessed by

visions, narratives, stoned

on history’s absolute rocks.

Now, I remember how I’ve

been charmed— thunder &

lightning only equipped to

disperse the right battalions,

fighting in empty space for

the non-existent; heartiness

of nudes, on/off webbed walls—

posted by Adam Fieled on Friday, June 20, 2014

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6.19.2014

From "I Will Out": "I See the Lines"

I See the Lines

Mine or someone else’s, lines

do disturb by just sitting there,

however you attempt to jounce

them into action outside their

accepted sphere— yet, I follow lines

out, year by year as I get older,

even if “towards” means nothing

but some vantage point I’ll

never see. When you or I read

lines the right way, everything

which means is tinted by

a fiery glow, against

the inscrutable nothingness

of things bald, if the fire were

false I wouldn’t touch it, but it isn’t-

posted by Adam Fieled on Thursday, June 19, 2014

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6.18.2014

From "I Will Out"

I Will Out

Strictly mechanical,

what propels us

towards recognitions

of what I am, &

incommensurate

the question, why

I must continue—

you either find

yourself continuing

or you don’t, against

or with internal

temporal currents,

exterior space

arrayed around—

as I continue,

the I which will

out has qualities

of being salvaged

far from expectation—

moves, breathes, directs

what currents it can,

as I will out, surprise

you dithering in

it, them, always—

 I See the Sunset

If you have lived

sans clarity, you may

be drawn to pretenses

against sunset being

what it is—

If you think at odd

angles, you can pretend

depth will manifest

sans effort, endowment

rich as gold—

but depth & clarity, as

endowments, can accrue

only to a mind edged

with clouded darkness

encompassing ends—

behind ends, processes

of decay, degradation, dire

plummets of stomachs

under dire judgments

beyond our kens—

then, lifts upwards,

arbitrary fits/starts,

something/someone judges

you real, towards

clear two-sided passages—


P.S. Apparition Poem #1307 in The Seattle Star. 

posted by Adam Fieled on Wednesday, June 18, 2014

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6.13.2014

RIP Robert

Robert Peters

posted by Alex Gildzen on Friday, June 13, 2014

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6.12.2014

From The Posit Trilogy

Murder Dream

There was a concert somewhere, I was
there with a college friend who wound
up betraying me, & I murdered the son
of a bitch with a shot-gun; they told
me I could get off scot-free if it was
only one murder, & as I sat in the
balcony trying not to notice a show
of cadavers onstage I angled my
behaviors so as not to offend them.

Next shot: I saw the dead man's life
pass in sequence before me, & he
was bound by a five-year contract to
die shortly anyway, which is probably
why they let me off, even as the cadavers
played invisible instruments into open air—

posted by Adam Fieled on Thursday, June 12, 2014

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